Текст оригинала на английском языке
The islands called me far away, The valleys called me home. The rivers with a silver voice Drew on my heart to come. The paths reached tendrils to my hair From every vine and tree. There was no refuge anywhere Until I came to thee. There is a northern cloud I know, Along a mountain crest; And as she folds her wings of mist, So I could make my rest. There is no chain to bind her so Unto that purple height; And she will shine and wander, slow, Slow, with a cloud's delight. Would she begone? She melts away, A heavenly joyous thing. Yet day will find the mountain white, White-folded with her wing. As you may see, but half aware If it be late or soon, Soft breathing on the day-time air, The fair forgotten Moon. And though love cannot bind me, Love, -- Ah no! -- yet I could stay Maybe, with wings forever spread, -- Forever, and a day.
Английская поэзия - http://eng-poetry.ru/. Адрес для связи firstname.lastname@example.org